


The Whole World In A Room

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 10:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt 'could you please write one with Roger Waters and the reader, set in the 70s after the film shot in Pompei, where they spend a bit of time as a couple away from the band and all the hustle & bustle'.Can do.





	The Whole World In A Room

“Roger…”

You whimper faintly as he runs his fingers over you, and exhale slowly, grinding back down onto him, the sensitivity of your orgasm still rippling through you as he moans your name quietly. It is still here, in this hotel room, away from everything you have been through in the last few days, nothing but the sounds of Naples outside, and nothing to do until you go back – Paris seems so far away as to be in a decade.

“Sweetheart…”

Now. Now is all that matters, and the two of you together, with time to do this – to be wrapped in one another, nothing – not a thing between you, be that people or clothes. You dip you head, kissing him – you can still taste yourself on his lips – and he slides his hips up, thrusting up into you slowly and lazily.

The sheets are cool against your shins, and your fingers pick through the material as you ride him. The heat of October defines the silence – the faint hum of the late autumn insects defining it, giving it a headiness that makes the air feel like honey. You run your fingers down the side of his long, elegant face, and he takes your hand and kisses it, mouth hanging open a little as his chest heaves. Out of everything, you think, you missed this most.

“Babe,” you whisper, and his hands slide up over your hips, rough and calloused from playing, to your breasts, cupping them as you close your eyes, biting your lip. “…oh…”

“ _God_ , you feel good,” he whispers, and you know what he means; it’s beyond this, but the feeling of being wrapped up in each other once again. Outside, a car horn beeps, and then the world returns to that silence, in which you can only hear his panting, and the bed creaking. “Sweetheart, I’m-” His voice cracks, his mouth falling open; you splay your hands out on his chest, closing your eyes and rolling your hips, and then he gasps, pulling you down onto him so he can cum deep inside you. You slump forward, and he collapses back, moaning weakly, before and staring at you, hazel eyes glowing. “Wow.”

“Wow,” you whisper, and he guides you off of him; you snuggle up to his side, and begin to stroke his stomach gently, tapping it with your fingers. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I mean… I missed being alone with you.” He strokes your back gently, and you lean your head on him. “What are we going to do? We have a few days until we go back.”

“We could go out for food.” You tiptoe your fingers up his stomach to his chest. “Or… we could… go sightseeing. Skip out the amphitheatres.” He smiles, and you kiss his cheek. “Or… we could…”

“Stay here? Order food up?” he says, and you grin. “Never leave? Sounds great. Let’s do that.”

“Oh, Roger,” you say, fondly, and he smiles at you.

“As long as you’re here, the whole world’s in this room.”


End file.
